


Calm After The Storm

by aconfederacyofscript



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconfederacyofscript/pseuds/aconfederacyofscript





	Calm After The Storm

“Wh-what?”

Skye remembers what it feels like to be shot in the abdomen. She remembers the sound coming first, the blow coming second, the pain coming last.

“I no longer love you, Skye. Please leave,” Jemma repeats the eight words.

The sound, the blow, the pain. It feels pretty much the same as being shot, if not worse. The air is pushed out of her body, a weight collapses onto her, her vision blurs around the edges and pain spreads through her chest.

“But how? I mean… I never… We have been together for eight years, Jem. Where is this coming from? Is there someone else? Can we at least talk about this?”

“There is no one else, Skye. I just can’t do it anymore. There’s little to talk about. We’re too different.”

Skye wants to splutter arguments and excuses, or say something that would make Jemma realise what exactly it is that she’s saying, but all that’s coming out of her mouth are loose vowels and consonants that don’t string together in cohesive words, so they just stand there.

They stand in the middle of the apartment they lived the last six years of their lives in. The pictures of them together in England, their first New Year together in New York, the coffee mugs on the shelf in the kitchen, the ridiculous amount of book cases packed against the walls, the DVD-boxes, the little herb garden they kept in the windowsill, the beer in the fridge, pictures of them with Fitz, and Bobbi, and Lance, with Melinda and Phil who practically became second parents to them, their cat, Flux, who just sleeps on their couch as if the world isn’t caving down on them at this second.

“Why should I leave? It’s my apartment, too. You’re the one breaking up with me,” Skye says eventually. She wipes at her eyes and swallows hard. She doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t know what else to do. There’s nothing she can do. She wants to run and hide, maybe stay at Trip’s house for a while, away from Jemma. Away from their memories, away from the life they built together. But on the other hand she wants to stay. Because she built this life with Jemma just as much as she did, and she’s not about to give up on that or let it go.

“Fine, I’ll go then. I’ll be at Fitz’ if you need anything.”

Skye nods. She sits down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter while Jemma packs an overnight bag, gathers her toiletries from the bathroom where they had sex in the shower countless times and she waits quietly.

“Skye…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry…”

Skye nods again. “I’m sorry, too.”

Skye knows that when the door closes behind Jemma there’s nothing that will ever be the same. There will be no breakfast at two in the morning because they got home late, there will be no falling asleep on the couch together, there will be no Thai take out and Netflix, there will be no beer on the roof, there will be no snow angels with Christmas, there will be no more pictures of the two of them together on the wall.

“Bye, Skye.”

Jemma takes her key of her chain and puts it in Skye’s hand. The door closes.

“I don’t think she’ll change her mind, Trip,” Skye sighs and follows the marble pattern of their – her – countertop with her fingertips. There’s a coffee stain there, a balled up tissue, two half empty cups of coffee and some leftovers from lunch.

“She’ll come around. You have been together for eight years. That is the longest you have been committed to someone and that is also the longest she has been committed to someone. It can’t be that she’s just letting this go.”

“I think she is, Trip. I think I have to accept that I will wake up with Flux in my bed, instead of Jemma.” She smiles sadly and sighs deeply when tears prickle in her eyes again. “I really need to stop crying.”

“Yeah, you’re a mess. And it’s gross. Like seriously,” Trip jokes and Skye throws a piece of pizza crust at him.

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head with a little laugh and shrugs. “I just feel so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just really miss her. I mean I didn’t just lose my girlfriend last week, I also lost one of my best friends…”

“I know. I really don’t know why you get out of bed in the morning.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder about that too.”

Skye doesn’t like sleeping so much anymore as she did before. She liked sleeping because she was warm, comfortable and moulded into her girlfriend, because her arms around her made her feel safe and protected, because the lips on her forehead made her feel loved. Now the bed just makes her feel alone. She’s cold most of the time. It just doesn’t feel the same anymore. And she can’t help it. She doesn’t want anybody else there to create new memories with, she doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else to forget Jemma. Quite frankly, she just wants Jemma back but there’s no point in trying, because Jemma seemed to have made up her mind about the matter. She had done the math, she had done the calculations, she had figured it out.

So she spends her nights in the living room where there is a little more distraction. Not much, but a little. She stays up for as long as possible, only to collapse on the couch with Flux when she’s too tired to think.

Skye especially hates sleeping when it’s storming outside, and New York seemed to have a knack of those this month. Rain is bashing against the windows that Skye hastily closed when she got home from work, Flux was absolutely soaked and she nearly ruined the plants she kept tending after even though that was something that Jemma usually did.

She hates the rattling of the windows, the whistling of the wind, the darkness that comes with it, even though she turned on every light in the apartment every single time. The only thing Skye likes about storms is the rain.

Her phone signals a new text message and she arches an eyebrow, picking it up with her free hand while taking another sip from her beer. Her heart stutters; it’s Jemma.

Jemma S. – It’s pouring and I’m outside the building. The door bell isn’t working again. Can I come in? 

Skye – I’ll be right down. Let me just put on my shoes. 

Jemma S. – Thank you.

She doesn’t even know why she sent that text, but some things in life don’t make sense. If they scare you, you can either do them, or don’t do them. You can either stay put, or stand up. It’s a matter of sink or swim, and as much as she’s afraid of the storm outside, she’s not afraid of Jemma. Because irony or not, Jemma was always there for her in a storm.

So she pulls on her boots and throws on her jacket, picks up her keys and pockets her phone before closing the door and riding the elevator down.

“Of all the times you could have come over, Jemma Simmons, why have you chosen this particular night?” Skye asks when she opens the door and walks down the steps. It’s raining harder than it looked, thick drops splashing apart on her skull. She doesn’t know how long Jemma has been standing there, but her hair sticks to her face, her mascara is slightly runny and she is absolutely drenched. She’s never looked more beautiful. Or maybe she had, on their first date. But right now she looks absolutely breathtaking. “How long have you been standing here? It’s pouring.”

“I said that. Quite a while.”

“I can tell. Why are you here?”

“I was at the lab. And I realised… I realised that I am such an idiot for letting you go, Skye. I thought that I missed what we had, but that I would find that in someone else, but I realised that it’s just the person I miss. I miss you and I am so extremely sorry for shattering what we had. And I hope that you would maybe consider giving me a second chance.” Jemma’s words tumble out all at once.

It’s almost as if Skye is being shot again. The sound and the blow. But this time the pain doesn’t come; just a warm shiver that tickles her neck. She pushes the wet strands of hair out of her own face and throws her hands in the air, huffing.

“Jemma, what the hell?” Skye shouts over the rumble of the thunder and she ducks in reflex. “I thought you said you no longer loved me. I have been crying my eyes out for the past two weeks. Flux probably thinks I should go to a mental institute and Trip has been buying me more pizza than I can eat. I am a flipping mess because of that stunt you pulled, Jemma. And now you’re standing here in the middle of the night on my porch, soaked to the skin, telling me that you want another chance?!”

“Yes!”

“It’s such a movie cliché!”

“I realise that now.”

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“Do you no longer love me?”

“Would I be here pulling a movie cliché if I didn’t love you anymore, Skye?”

“You do realise that you are an idiot, right?!”

“I realise that more than anything, Skye. Please, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This is a little crazy, but –”

“A little crazy?!”

“Skye, I’m being serious! I want to ask you if you’ll marry me?!“ Jemma shouts just as the lightning flashes and lights up the entire street. Skye ducks again in reflex, but this time Jemma’s hands find their way to her shoulders, grounding her.

“What?”

“Will you marry me, Skye?!“ Jemma asks again and Skye nods, kissing Jemma soundly. It’s probably one of the wettest kisses they’ve shared, but it makes Skye’s skin tingle everywhere anyway.

“I heard you the first time,” Skye says, a wide grin spreading onto her face and tangling her fingers in her hair. “Yes, Jemma, I want to marry you. Duh, absolutely.”

“Are you crying?” Jemma whispers, laughing a shaky breath, but Skye shakes her head; trying to hide the tears. Happy tears.

“No, of course not. It’s raining, you silly,” she answers and kisses Jemma soundly again. “I still hate you, though.”

“Good. I’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.”

“Good.”


End file.
